Led Zelda: The Greatest Rock Band on Earth
by Gibson 1959 Les Paul
Summary: Sex, Drugs, and Music with Sitars. What more could a Zelda fan ask for? Some actual Zelda to go with it, you say? Well, here's the answer. Link and the Zgang: Malon, Saria, Darunia, Ganondorf, Ruto and Zelda and the band thereof, plus a weirdo teenager.
1. Down the Hole

Led Zelda: The Greatest Rock Band of All Time

Chapter 1: Down the Hole (Wait...did that sound kinda...wrong?)

_Summary: Sex, Drugs, and Music with Sitars. What more could a Zelda fan ask for? Some actual Zelda to go with it, you say? Well, here's the answer. Link and the Z-gang: Malon, Saria, Darunia, Ganondorf, Ruto and Zelda have run in with a quirky teenage video-game-obsessed individual from the distant future, named Drake, who has taken upon himself the task of making their lives a living hell, and having a lot of fun doing it. An innocent trip to Cleveland Ohio-land, leads to more than anyone would've wanted to expect, and the greatest rock band of all time is born. Or maybe just the semi-greatest band from 8:30 am - to 4:00 pm. Mondays they close early. And they get Saturday off. _

_This story is one of a series, the first of which is also posted on this site under my friend's author name (Ninjaquail). It might help a read his before reading mine. Just to explain some things. But then, none of this story makes sense anyway._

_R - for profanity, crude (and very eccentric) humor, and sexually suggestive (and sometimes blatant) scenes later on. Not an easy read, word wise. It might help if you're a fan of Douglas Adams. Anyone who's ever read a Hitchhiker's Trilogy book should be able to see where I drew influences for a lot of my writing style. Lots of Princess-bashing (both of the Zelda and Ruto variety). If you don't like that, don't read it. Or better yet, read it, work up a good rage, and send me a flame or two. I'll always welcome a good flamer. Gives me someone or something to vent on. Your messages will be noted and duly ignored. (kidding!)_

* * *

"I'm not at liberty to disclose that." Stated Drake, wearing the sort of smile that said not only was he very much at liberty to disclose it, but that he was choosing not to predominantly because of the fact that it irritated you to no end, and that you knew this, and that _he_ knew that _you_ knew this and that made it all the more amusing for him, and also that there was, in fact, nothing you could do about it. All this was encompassed in that single malevolent grin which, right now, was prompting an irresistible desire in Link to lay a good punch on that visage of self-satisfaction, and Link, unable to resist this desire (hence the word irresistible), did just that.

Had this situation been under different circumstances, Drake might've been rolling on the ground clutching a face that no longer sported the aforementioned malevolent grin and instead was much bluer and blacker in color than most faces of the human variety usually are, but seeing as the situation wasn't under different circumstances, he wasn't. Instead, he was smiling an even more malevolent grin, instantly and universally recognizable as the "hah,-you-just-tried-to-punch-me-in-the-face,-but-couldn't-on-account-of-I'm-an-entity-from-the-future-and-thus-have-yet-to-exist-and-am-therefore-impervious-to-physical-damage,-consequently-explaining-why-your-angry-fist-passed-through-where-my-body-seemed-to-be-instead-of-inflicting-the-intense-pain-that-you-were-(and-probably-still-are)-intent-on-inflicting-on-me" smile, which is a very irritating trick if you can do it.

_Side Note: If you would like more information on this curious incorporeal asset of Drake, or indeed, about just who the hell this Drake dude is then...I'm afraid I can't help you. However, for a long, structure-less, wildly comical story to accompany this explanation, check out my friend Teo's (author name: Ninjaquail) corresponding Zelda fic (titled: From Good, to Bad, to What the ! is That?), the original volume of this non-chronological series which we have been collaborating on rather unsuccessfully since the moment it first popped into our disturbingly imaginative and disfigured heads. Back to this insane and inane story. (Yup...I just rhymed.)_

Drake had long since mastered this smile and while its use would, under normal circumstances, be very specialized, Drake had in fact found it far more versatile and applicable a expression then one might expect, and one he had used countless times largely due to the fact that he _was_ an entity from the future and therefore had yet to exist and was consequently impervious to physical damage and also, strangely enough, prone to frequently attracting violent, well-aimed punches.

Drake, having judged it the exact moment for optimal irritation, opened his mouth to repeat his words and with luck, begin the whole punch-miss-smile cycle that he so wickedly delighted in, but then caught Link's precarious look and thought better of it.

"That's right," Said Link in an icy voice, the kind that gave people severe hypothermia and frostbite-stolen appendages, "You better watch what comes out of your mouth next, because the wrong words will result in some hurting on your part, and if I have to hire a team of physicists to figure out how to exact pain on you, so help me God, I will. So...I'll ask you again, slowly, so you can understand me. Where. Are. We. Going?"

Drake briefly considered throwing caution to the wind and shooting for a nervous breakdown but then thought _why throw gasoline on the fire?_ This was perhaps his third truly intelligent thought in almost as many years. Unfortunately, it was ruined when he considered how he liked to throw gasoline on fires, partly because he was something of a pyro, and partly because he thought throwing gasoline on fires was fun, which was in fact the same reason.

"Okay, fine. We're going to Ohio. Happy?" Admitted Drake sulkily. He had decided he was too lazy to keep the secret any longer, but that didn't mean he liked losing any less.

"Ohio?" Asked someone. It was Malon, and her normally very attractive face that was usually sporting a cheery smile, was looking instead like it been through hell, got lost on its way back, seen things ranch girls weren't meant to see, died a few times, and returned a little less sane than when things had started out, not to mention a little baggy around the eyes.

This was the look most faces quickly adopted after being around Drake too long, which generally meant just meeting him. She tossed aside a lock of her long red hair that had fallen lifelessly in front of her eyes and that was looking less like the flaming tresses of a beautiful maiden and more like a joyless red mop. "As in Cleveland, Ohio?"

"No duh. As if there's any other place in Ohio worth visiting." Drake replied absently, eyes scanning the immeasurably vast and impossibly purple "room" that the eight of them were standing in.

"I object to that comment. I've read all about Ohio, and it's a very interesting state with plenty to offer along with the prominent Cleveland. Always wanted to visit there. Too busy being raped by hoards of Gerudoes, though." Ganondorf said, in a girlishly pathetic voice that belied his huge stature and menacing demeanor.

"All right already with the stories of your childhood traumas, okay? That's the second time you've brought that up and that's two times too many. You've already succeeded in alienating and creeping out everyone here with the exception of Zelda whose hand is dangerously close to her crotch, the horny bitch, stop that right now, and Ruto whose horrible aquatic existence seems to have rendered her ridiculously obtuse and only vaguely aware of her immediate surroundings." Snapped Link angrily, attracting some nervous glances from most of his companions.

He was tired of this, dammit! Tired of jumping through inter-dimensional portals to strange places that made him question whether he was entirely sane. Tired of the way Ganondorf had snapped like a twig after revisiting a horrible part of his childhood that no one wanted to know about. Tired of dancing cartoons singing about Dora and blue dogs and talking mailboxes and giant purple dinosaurs all in need of a good eradicating. Tired of roller coasters that got stuck at the tops of loops and butt-raping hoboes and 60 plus mile death marches to obscure gas stations. But most of all, he was TIRED OF DRAKE! Tired of his non-existence, tired of his smirking demeanor, tired of his façade of stupidity, his myriad idiosyncrasies, and his ability to irritate even rocks out of the minds that they lacked. He needed a break. A way to escape it all.

"How do you even know what Ohio is anyway, Malon?" Asked the other giant hulk in the group, whose presence was hard not to notice. Darunia scratched the bald beige patch on the top of his head with his muscular sausage of a finger that closely resembled in circumference and diameter, the arm of a young, but burly child. "It's not part of our world, and _I've_ certainly never heard of it."

"Oh, I don't know..." Replied a tired Malon with an apathetic wave of her hand. "I heard it somewhere. This is a fanfic. It doesn't have to make sense. A more important question would be: why the hell are we going there, dammit?" There had been time, long ago, when an innocent, naïve, little ranch girl named Malon would feel offended and uncomfortable by the use of even mild profanity. There had also been a time when dinosaurs roamed the earth.

Her question had been directed at Drake, and as usual, he hadn't answered, preoccupied with scanning the millions of different inter-dimensional portals that lined every "wall" of the "room." He started to wander off in a very purposeful manner, something that looks very confusing to the eyes if you've ever seen it, purposeful wandering. She stormed after him, determined to get an answer if she had to bitch slap his nonexistent head into a nonexistent pancake.

Link's gaze followed her for a while, knowing that whatever she was about to do probably wasn't going to end well, and then turned back and took in the sight of "the Gang." Darunia and Ganondorf were busy arguing at the tops of their voices about Ohio, an event that most likely would end in sulky glares, but could just as easily escalate into blows, something that no one would want to be in the way of. Saria was standing a little ways off having lapsed into another period of thoughtful silence, something she did a little too often and that was never of any use to anyone. Zelda was in her post-horny mode which involved a lot of a different kind of moaning; you see, she was whining just for a change. Ruto resembled a piece of cardboard, in that she wasn't moving or talking (except for arbitrary and spontaneous exclamations of her amphibian nature, something along the lines of "I'm a fish!"), or indeed exhibiting any signs of intelligence.

Zelda's valley girl whine rose and fell in infuriating waves of volume, the heights of which cut through the din like a razor through a gay guy's leg hair.

"Okay, like, when are we going to get moving peoples? Let's go already! I'm, like, the princess so you all have to like, shut up and listen to me. We're going home! And I expect someone to carry me. I'm not walking another step. I'm, like, princess everyone! You have to obey me! Did I mention that I'm, like, the princess! Ruto, get over here on your knees and carry me. You'll be my royal horse, for lack of anything better."

"Fish?"

"No! Horse! You're my royal transportation device! On your knees!"

"Fish."

"Argh! Listen to me!" Screamed Zelda like a fingernail on the blackboard of everyone's soul.

"Shove her in that portal over there, will you, Darunia?" Asked Drake who had somehow appeared behind them, even though he hadn't changed direction. Another quirk of this godforsaken room. A very irate looking Malon followed closely behind scanning for something on which to inflict her terrifying and almighty wrath. (Apparently it hadn't worked so well on Drake, seeing as he didn't exist yet, so that had only served to fuel her anger). Her eyes lit upon the droning princess. In a flash, she reached out, grabbed a fistful of the raving Zelda's blond and disgustingly well-kept hair (She had spent three hours every morning fixing it, refusing to leave until it was done, which had resulted in her being left behind several times much to everyone's satisfaction, only to reappear again a few hours later, riding Ruto like a giant, blond, ass-wart). She then dragged the protest-screaming princess ("What are you doing you ranch bitch? You can't do this to royalty! Let go of me this instant! I'm a princess! Obey me!") to the edge of a particular ominous portal, and gave her royal ass a good boot into oblivion.

"Man, that felt good." Said Malon with a satisfied smile, suddenly in a much brighter mood. She turned back to the impressed stares of her friends. "Don't suppose you know where that led to, Drake?"

He shrugged indifferently. "Dunno. Hopefully a giant meat grinder. Anywho, on a different note, I think I've found what we're looking for." He declared triumphantly. He spun around, waving his hand in what he hoped was a very grandiose gesture, in the direction of another portal. In doing so he accidentally struck the dim-witted Ruto over her head and a loud, hollow drum-like sound was heard. Ruto wheeled over, tripped on one of her unwieldy fins, and plummeted into the same portal Zelda had just hopefully met her untimely demise in. Drake carried on, affecting not to have noticed, and everyone took his example and ran with it, as though nothing important had happened, which in reality, was true.

"This, if I'm not mistaken, which I often am, is the portal to Cleveland, Ohio-world. It's a world where only Cleveland, Ohio exists." Announced Drake wearing another smile, one that said he knew he had just said something that made no possible sense and that it was disconcerting you. The portal looked disappointingly identical to every other portal in the "room".

"And just how is that possible?" Wondered Link.

"Just think of it as a box with only Cleveland, Ohio in it." Explained Drake, or rather, failed to explain. Link's, Malon's, Darunia's, Ganondorf's, and Saria's faces were as blank as ever.

"Is that what it is, then?" Asked Saria, speaking for the first time in a while.

"No, not in the slightest, but it might help to think of if that way."

"Oh no you don't. I'm not about to plunge into another one of your hell holes without good cause. Why are we going to a Cleveland, Ohio-World?" Demanded Malon for the second time.

"There's an Al Han Mumbai concert there. We have to check it out. No arguments."

"Who the hell is Al Han Mumbai!" Malon shouted with frustration.

Drake's jaw dropped, his eyes lit aflame like bags of charcoal doused in lighter fluid. He stared at her incredulously.

"You don't know Mumbai? The Sultan of Eastern Pop Music? The Ali of Indian Rock? The God of the Sitar?" He exclaimed unbelievingly.

If the stares had been blank before they were now desolate, and contained perhaps just a little terror. They knew what Drake was capable of during these flights of hysteria.

"Hindu music, huh?" Said Link cautiously, "You like...Hindu music?"

"Duh. Who doesn't?" Answered Drake. A number of the people present raised their hands just give an example the "doesn't" crowd and by "a number of the people present", the author of course means everyone but Drake.

"Wow." Drake gazed at them all in disbelief, "You're like a bunch of uncultured swine."

There was a brief pause and then:

"Am I the only one who resents that comment?" Asked Saria, ever polite. She wasn't the only one who resented, but Drake could've cared less.

"Time for your musical education, children!" Called out Drake to the staring eyes of his friends, all full of exhaustion and uncertainty and just a little bit of blatant unforgiving hatred. Malon quickly interrupted before Drake could get on one of his rolls.

"How do you even know that this is the right portal? It looks exactly the same as every other one."

"Dunno. Just a hunch really." He replied as if it was beside the point. "Come on, peoples, we haven't got all day. Although, technically, seeing as this 'room' doesn't have a sun, we don't have any day at all."

"Oh no you don't," Link objected, "I'm not jumping on a hunch."

"I agree." Said Ganondorf.

"No one asked you, you walking wart." Replied Drake a wonderfully gracious voice, "But fine, send a test dummy down first, if it'll ease your minds. It'll be like sending a canary into the mine. Ganondorf'll do. If there are any objections speak now or forever hold you're peace. None?"

Ganondorf stared in bewilderment like a deer caught in the headlights of a car, "Wait a minute...I don't agr –"

"Too late." Said Darunia and with a nudge of his boulder-like shoulder (that rhymed) Ganondorf went plunging down into the portal like the ugliest canary that ever lived.

* * *

_Anywho, that's the end of the first chapter. Its kind of like pistachio ice cream, either it's your kind of thing or isn't. Any thoughts you have, compliments, questions, hate mail, essays on the malleable nature of the human subconscious, would be heartily appreciated. (Yeah, I'm a liar. So sue me.) Review if you want to. Don't if you don't. Although, that's probably what you were gonna do whether or not I told you to._


	2. Stairway to Heaven

Chapter 2: _Stairway to Heaven (WARNING: Unsafe. Closed for Renovation)_

_Story so far: Link, Malon, Saria, Ganondorf, Darunia, and (last and least) Ruto and Zelda, are off on a trip to a theme park when they run into someone who forever gay-ens their lives. Drake, a peculiar (to put it lightly) teenager from the future is a gaming-geek particularly obsessed with the classic Zelda 64 game, _Ocarina of Time_, and instantly recognizes the whole group, much to their eventual dismay. With no delay, all hell breaks loose in the form of inter-dimensional portals, giant eating utensils, rental-car breakdowns, butt-raping hobos, and worst of all…Dora the Explorer. (To read of these terrible tales, check out my friend's corresponding fic. His author name would be: Ninjaquail) Their most recent fiasco begins with a dive into Cleveland, Ohio-World, a dive soon discovered to be twenty thousand feet high and lacking in any significant body of water. In the words of manure-farmers everywhere, "Oh, Shit."_

* * *

Right from the start, Drake's keen intuition and sharp intellect told him something was wrong. Drake, of course, turned right around and told his keen intuition and sharp intellect to shut up because he was busy having a hellavuh time and he knew how the two liked to get in the way of that. For one thing, he was getting hit by an extremely strong breeze, the several-miles-per-hour kind. He also was undergoing the peculiar sensation that his innards had finally gotten fed up with their lot, packed up their bags, and were now a mile off behind him, a sensation distinctly associated with rapid vertical descent, otherwise known as – 

"FALLING!" Drake bellowed at the top of his lungs. "WE'RE FALLING!"

Link, who had entered the portal a few moments before Drake and was now a distance below him, glanced up, eyes red with loathing.

"**NO SHIT, SHERLOCK!" **He bellowed back, desperately trying to conquer the roar of the air rushing past them as they plummeted from twenty thousand feet above the span of Cleveland, which Drake had surmised was probably where the portal had opened up.

Dangerous things, portals were, what with the lack of warning labels and all. They could open up anywhere. That's why had Drake had taken the liberty of posting "Attention! Do not feed the Flamingoes", "Caution! Do not enter if you have the ability to see, hear, touch, taste or smell things", and "Warning! The yellow ones aren't edible" in front of three of the more hazardous galactic gateways, as a heads up for some of the uninformed inter-dimensional tourists that liked to wander universes for exotic postcards. This, however, he hadn't expected.

"**DAMMIT, DRAKE! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON YOU SON OF BITCH!" **Link continued to holler.

"I JUST TOLD YOU! WE'RE FALLING, STUPID!" Drake explained. He smiled, seeing the rest of his companions arrayed in a sort of staircase spiral in the air beneath him, their different-colored outfits making them look like skittles. The farthest down was Ganondorf, who been the first to "jump" and was a couple of hundred feet below looking like a flailing ant.

Before the "dive," Drake had been brave enough and honorable enough to take on the position of rear guard, which involved sending everyone else before him into potential danger in a very brave and honorable way while he bravely and honorably stood guard on the side of the portal that everyone already knew was safe and waited to see whether any of them survived when they came out on the other end. Unfortunately, his despicable shoe-laces had turned against him, and he had found himself plummeting in shortly giving Link's back a good shove.

Drake supposed that he should've been thinking of a way out of what was almost certainly impending doom for Link and everyone else, but he remembered that the last time he had tried thinking, really thinking, he had ended up naked, bruised, and hanging upside down from a flaming clothesline over a pit of rabid, flesh-eating, platypuses while ululating aborigines pelted him with orange golf balls (don't even ask). Thus, he figured the best thing to do would be to wait around and see what Fate had in store for them. He couldn't have known that Fate was having its nails done and wasn't going anywhere.

Link, too, was not feeling the slightest fear about smashing against the ground at several miles per hour. This was not, however, because he was under any misapprehensions about Fate, or because he found the sensation of his face being stretched like a condom, to be pleasant. He was busy focusing every fiber of his being on being angry at Drake. His fear, sensing this in him, grew very afraid, and timidly backed away to avoid angering his anger even further.

"**DRAAAAAAAAAKE! DRAAAAAAAAAAKE, DAMMIT!**" He bellowed. Drake spared him a brief downward glance, which was all the opportunity that Link needed to holler, "**YOU'RE A FUCKING DICK!**" Through the horrendous din, it ended up reaching Drake as "BORE A CLUCKING DUCK!" which had a completely different effect than the one intended. Now Drake was busy thinking about giving Algebra lessons to hybrid poultry, and was an even farther cry from helping anyone.

Link, infuriated to no end, looked back to see Malon flailing below him, with Saria a little further beyond. Second to last, before Ganondorf, was the round M&M like form of Darunia. He wanted to drop down to them, but he had noticed that they had adopted the annoying habit of falling at the same rate as he was, probably due to that pesky Newton's law. For a moment it seemed that physics stood in his way like a metaphorical brick wall. Link, on the other end, who was (had I mentioned?) extremely pissed off, told Newton's law to go fuck itself. With that, his descent began to speed up until he found himself level with Malon, upon which he reached a conclusion that made Einstein's general theory spin in its grave: the laws of the universe were relative to your pissed-off factor.

* * *

At that moment Malon's consciousness was prancing about in a very happy place. Perhaps it had something to do with the rush of air that was bullying her eyes into the backs of their sockets, perhaps not. All she knew was that, where she was, there wasn't any wide stretch of ground rushing at her like the hand of a well-aimed slap. There weren't any immediate, life-threatening perils to deal with. There weren't any inter-dimensional portals, sitar-virtuosos, or ugly canaries. And most importantly, there wasn't any Drake. At least, no form of him that wasn't struggling frantically as it was suspended precariously over a vat of ravenous, flesh-eating, platypuses. 

No…she was safe and warm in the cozy livingroom of her ranch-house all the way back in Hyrule, a cup of steaming coffee in her hand. There was the familiar leather sofa pleasantly worn with use, the sound of her large father snoring nearby, and the vague smell of horse manure (though perhaps that was not the most pleasant part of the hallucination) wafting freely through the open window. Out that window she could see the fences of the ranch's corral, horses grazing lazily, the figure of Drake suspended precariously over a vat of ravenous, flesh-eating, platypuses. Everything was…perfect.

Which was why the sudden, violent slap she received from Link was not at all welcome.

"What do you want!" She snapped at him.

Link stared at her. He had been quite alarmed at the inebriated look that met his gaze as he finally leveled off with her. When she hadn't responded to his screams, which were difficult enough to hear over the noise of the harrowing air flow around him, he had grabbed her andslapped her sharply. The look she had given him then made him briefly consider slapping her againunder the guise of makingsure she wasn't still hallucinating.

"What do I WANT!" He shouted back. "MAYBE I WANT YOU TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE FACT THAT WE'RE GOING TO **DIE!**"

She seemed puzzled for an instant, as if seeing their situation for the first time, glancing left, then right, and finally…down. The ground had never looked so uninviting. She clutched frantically at Link's tunic and began screaming.

"OH MY GOD! LINK! WE'RE FALLING!" She observed loudly.

"REALLY? I HADN'T NOTICED! WHEN I SAID, 'WE'RE GOING TO DIE,' I WAS MAKING A PHILOSPHICAL ACKNOWLEDGEMENT OF THE FRAILTY OF LIFE! IT HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS SITUATION!" The fact that he managed to make his voice drip with sarcasm the way bee hives dripped with honey, while still bellowing loud enough to regurgitate his lungs, was something of which he was especially proud.

However, Link'scaustic remark went unnoticed. Malon continued hysterically.

"SOMEONE DO SOMETHING! HOW THE HELL…--" There was a pause…then, "DRAKE!" Her head shot upward. "YOU STUPID FUCK! GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW! I'M! GOING! TO! KILL! YOU!"

"MALON!" Link hollered.

"WHAT!" She barked back, annoyed at being interrupted.

"HE CAN'T HEAR YOU! THERE'S NO POINT! FUCKER'S TOO BUSY THINKING ABOUT DUCKS! BESIDES, YOU'D HAVE ABOUT TWO MINUTES TO FUFILL YOUR DEATH THREAT BEFORE THE GROUND DID IT FOR YOU, SO WHY BOTHER? JUST FOLLOW ME!"

He seized several times at her dress, which was flapping wildly about her, and dragged her closer, before gripping her hand firmly. He then began to speed up his descent again, until he leveled off with Saria, whom he added to his human chain. Within a few moments, Darunia, and finally Ganondorf were recovered. Their combined fury for Drake at the moment (after Ganondorf, he had shoved them all in, one by one, before they had known what was happening) was a force so impressive that the laws of physics had long since scampered off with their tails between their asses and were now hiding behind a theoretical wall until everyone calmed down.

"WHAT'RE WE GOING TO DO!" Darunia didn't have quite as much trouble being heard as everyone else. But his extensive facial hair was an entirely different matter. He could barely speak without the rushing air force-feeding him his own beard. "I'D SAY WE HAVE – _PTH! – _FIFTEEN SECONDS BEFORE WE – _PLAH! –_ SPLAT AGAINST THE – _PBBT!_ – GROUND AND END UP LOOKING LIKE A 6-LAYER LASAGNE – _PUH!_ – WITH TWELVE VARIETIES OF – _PAGH!_ – MELTED CHEESE AND FRESH TOMATO SAUCE!"

The capacity for hunger in the hefty Goron never failed to amaze Link. Even when the man was falling to his doom while munching on his own mustache, he was hungry.

"I'LL TELL YOU WHAT WE'RE GOING TO DO! WE'RE GOING TO NOT DIE!" He stated with such determination that had the pompous law of gravity so much as raised a measly protest, Link would've ensured that it never dropped apples on geniuses again.

"IS THAT STATEMENT GRAMMATICALLY CORRECT?" Questioned Ganondorf in a timid shout (difficult to do).

Words cannot describe the intensity of the look that crossed Link's face.

"I TAKE IT BACK! **WE'RE** GOING TO NOT DIE! **WE'RE** GOING TO LAND UNHARMED ON OUR FEET, BRUSH OURSELVES OFF, TAKE A STROLL OVER TO THAT McDONALDS DOWN THERE AND DEVOUR SEVENTEEN CHEESEBURGERS EACH, AND **GANON** OVER HERE IS GOING TO EAT MAJOR SHIT FOR THE SAKE OF SYNTAX ACCURACY."

As if in answer to his remark, the ground finally reminded them all that it was still there, and with blinding suddenness, rushed to close the last 50 feet between the seven hapless Hylians and their dooms. At this point conversation was abandoned in favor of terrified screams.

Amazingly, one instant before Death's metaphorical guillotine (scythe, whatever) would've severed their souls from their bodies, before the flyswatter of Fate would've squashed them into so much organic goo, the ground unexpectedly froze inches from the ends of each person's nose. They all lay facing towards, and floating above, the dull gray of a concrete plaza, still screaming in terror.

Link was the exception, and with a grit of his teeth, his rage-power had the whole gang floating upright to touch down noiselessly on the ground. Nearby, bewildered pedestrians gawked like…well…like they had just seen two Hylians, a Kokiri, a Gerudo, and a Goron, fall from the sky, freeze inches above the ground, and then float noiselessly to their feet.

"There." He stated matter-of-factly. "Did I tell you, or what?"

The others had lapsed into shocked silence and did not reply at first.

"So, whose ready for McDonalds?" asked Link with an utterly incongruous nonchalance that even Drake would've envied.

Of course, only Saria was thinking of their remaining companion at that point.

"What about…Drake?" She whispered. There was some collective shrugging on the part of Malon, Darunia and Ganondorf.

"Screw him," Link replied, just as his ears caught the sound of a screaming moron smacking heavily and wetly against the asphalt, "He can pay for his own damn burgers."

* * *

_Er...I'm not sure what you'd think of that (and if you aren't either, then my work is done). Its been forever since I wrote anything for this. I guess I just felt like picking it up again. It still has yet to go somewhere. Its supposed to have to do with music, but the closest I've come to that is mentioning an Hindu pop icon. I'd tell you its going to get better, but I've been taught that lying is wrong. Remember, flamers are always welcome (they keep me warm during the winter). Positive feedback is also appreciated, though not necessary. And blue is a color. Just so you know. And as for which came first, the chicken or the egg, I'm not sure, but I heard their bed creaking behind a locked door and when it finally stopped, one of them was like: "I guess we answered that question." I couldn't tell which it was, though._


	3. Highway to Hell

Chapter 3: _Highway to Hell (McDonalds, 5 miles)_

_Story So Far: Summaries are pointless. Why trade the full, informative details for an edited, curtailed collection of succinct overall main ideas? Summaries are the fast-food of facts and I will not tolerate them. So, instead of a concise recount of the important things (if any) that happened in the previous two chapters, I will instead provide an exact copy of the text of the story up until this point: …Okay. Just kidding. I'm too lazy. So instead, here's a summary: Er…stuff happened, there were events, and characters involved, a little dialogue here and there, and it all wound together in something resembling, but not quite instantiating, a plot. Um…just read. You'll figure it out. Chances are, you wouldn't be reading the third chapter of this story if you hadn't read the last two. Actually, the greater chances are that you wouldn't be reading it all, since its obscure, obscene, and not very good, so, according to statistics, this message I just spent my time dutifully typing was a complete waste. Er…enjoy: _

* * *

"We'll have 75 happy meals. With extra happiness." 

Link wasn't sure what made the meals so jubilant. Perhaps there were consciousness-altering substances involved, who knew? Who cared, for that matter? He figured that, in light of recent events, they could use all the happiness they could get and by whatever means necessary. Besides, the smells of fat and grease had reminded them all of something the moment that they had walked in the restaurant: They were hungry as hell.

"AND a diet coke." Reminded Darunia.

"And a diet coke." Link repeated to the lanky, acne-ridden, adolescent so stereotypically emblematic of cash-register employees all over the U.S.

"Trying to watch my figure." The Goron explained with a grin to the employee, who merely gaped at them, mouth slightly slack-jawed, sporting a countenance that was a mix of wide-eyed confusion and the usual detached, empty-headedness that can be seen in most teenagers' eyes.

"Can't see why you'd have to try. Din knows its so huge you'd have difficulty watching anything else." Ganondorf remarked with a smirk.

Darunia bristled indignantly. "Geez, Ganondorf, why are you being such an asshole. Oh that's right…you're an evil sorcerer who got raped senseless as a youth by every member of your entirely female race."

"HEY!" The King of Evil was instantly in tears, "That's not fair! I HAD CHILDHOOD ISSUES! My therapist said that it wasn't my fault! How am I ever going to get over my crippling self-blame now?"

"That _was_ a little unjustified, Darunia." Saria chided gently.

"Unjustified? He started it! What does he think he's the only one that has sensitive issues? You think its easy being a fat Goron?" The fire sage yelled back, voice cracking with emotion in a way quite unbecoming of a 500 pound Goron king.

"Why shouldn't it be? You're whole race is a bunch of overweight, squat, ugly, dirt-eating terds!" Ganondorf screamed back.

"GANONDORF! YOU'RE SO GAY YOU'RE FARTS SOUND LIKE GUSTS OF WIND!"

"Hey, that's enough!" Interrupted Malon, bravely restraining Darunia's huge fist with all her might.

"Oh why don't you just shut up, you red-headed bitch!" Ganondorf howled in reply.

Her subsequent slap sent him reeling.

"Please! Let us not resort to violence!" Saria pleaded desperately.

"Why not! Its only thing that'll teach this asshole a lesson! Maybe I should call Nabooru up to do it for me! You know, so he can continue that tradition of getting his ass dominated by girls! " Darunia threatened.

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! YOU FATSO!" The Sorceror's squealing was enough to wound ear drums. What had started out so innocently had gotten dangerously out of control, and by now, every customer in the restaurant was watching the fiasco intently.

Link closed his eyes tiredly. He was still facing the cashier employee. He hadn't even bothered turning around to intervene in the insanity taking place behind him.

"Make that extra…EXTRA happy. And for the love of god, hurry." He could not meet the boy's eyes and spoke to the "Hello, my name is Steven," tag pinned on the his bony chest. Steven continued to stare. First at the pretty-boy elf standing before him, then at the gigantic creature behind him, whose leathery brown skin, round shape, and wild body hair, did indeed make him look like a very large, very hairy, terd. And an angry one at that. The other one, ridiculously tall and dark, and dressed in clothes that he must've pulled right out of a masochistic, homosexual's sex fantasy, was cringing backwards, whimpering about how it wasn't his fault that he was an evil warlock bent on world domination. A cute red-headed girl's face was contorted in a not-so-cute rage as she screamed down at the cringing giant, and a ten-year-old with an apparent color-obsession was trying vainly to reason with the giant, hairy terd, her hands help upward in a pacifying gesture.

Had he been a Nintendo gamer he might've exploded in his pants at the scene, but seeing as it was the ugly, monstrous form of an X-box resting under his TV at home, he was as unprepared for the situation as a fish was for flying. That is, of course, a fish of the non-flying variety. So instead he merely shrugged and reacted in the only way he knew how.

"Uh…would you like ketchup with that, sir?"

* * *

Drake supposed the reason he hadn't been worried about careening into a large expanse of very hard concrete from a twenty-thousand foot drop was because he was so used to being an incorporeal being from the future that he couldn't have recognized his own mortality if it had slapped him in the face, which coincidentally, it was just about to do. Very hard. 

When it finally did hit him (pun intended) that Cleveland, Ohio-land was a subset of the same time continuum from which he himself hailed, and that as such, he was alarmingly capable of dying, it was about .5 milliseconds too late to do anything other than scream in dismay.

* * *

The aromas of sesame seed-less burgers and stale fries were enough to snap the entire gaggle of video game characters out of their pointless squabble. They gazed at the tall, glorious figure of Link, a tray piled mountain-high with steaming paper bags (the good kind, not the disgusting kind) held outstretched in his arms. To the weary, hungry, bunch who could barely remember the last time they had eaten, he seemed, at that moment, a beacon of divinity, a towering god. He who bears fast-food!

"Its beautiful…" whispered Darunia, a tear rolling down his cheek. Wordlessly, the ranch girl, the ageless Kokiri, the fire sage, and the Gerudo warlock sat themselves at the nearest booth and eagerly awaited their magnificent meal. They found themselves beginning to smile, for the first time in so long that their faces seemed to fumble with the expression, work at it, drop it again, curse, say "screw it" and then give up suddenly, all in the space of a few moments.

There they were on the verge of digging oh-so-deeply in, when a huffing, bruised, and tattered teenager came barreling through the glass revolving-door restaurant entrance. He was in such a fitful haste that he found himself trapped in the threshold's deadly revolutions for a full ten seconds before the portal abruptly regurgitated him, sending him rolling out onto the floor in tangle of his own limbs. He came to an inelegant stop right in front of the Hylians and their unresolved meal.

"Oh…pant…thank god…huff…I found you…gasp…before you hurt yourselves…." Drake managed to spit out through a gag of his own brown hair.

There was a moment of awkward disbelief, and then Darunia started to snivel. Link sank down in his seat, his head falling back against cheap scarlet "pleather", and his eyes closing with tired frustration.

"Oh COME ON! Aren't you DEAD yet?" He exclaimed.

"Aww…I love you to, Link!" Was his sincere reply. He smiled suddenly.

"I know you guys have gotten used to the fact that I'm an intangible being from the future, which is why you figured you didn't have to worry about me being killed in a 20,000 foot fall, right? But I forgot to mention that when we enter a world that exists in the same relative time period as the one that I come from (i.e. this one), I become just as mortal as you guys. So, could you guys like…take that into consideration…the next time you leave me in a potentially fatal situation?"

"You didn't forget." Stated Link flatly.

"Huh?"

"You didn't forget." He repeated. "I remember you mentioning the limits of your physical being very clearly awhile back."

"Oh…really? So then why did you…?" Drake began before Link interrupted.

"Oh look at the time! Guess we should be going. Don't want to miss that…er… concert…right guys? Uh, we'll just take this food to go."

The others nodded a quick agreement, and at this, Drake's eyes lit up again.

"Oh yeah! That's why I came in such a hurry! Its about to start. We've got 5 minutes! Come! We will NOT miss the opening act!" He was on his feet in an ebullient flash. He paused as he caught sight of the register employee.

"Hi Steven! I'm Drake!" He shouted.

"Er…what up? Do I know you?"

"Obviously not, or you wouldn't have to wear that tag would you? Come on guys, lets go." He charged out the door leaving the poor Hylians in his dust.

There was a collective groan as they all got to their feet to follow him.

"Why do we do this? Are we masochists?" Saria queried in an almost philosophical manner.

"Erm…cause there's something about him that's endearing and irresistible?" Malon tried.

"Nah…. He's just the only one who knows a way out of this hell-hole." Link observed.

"Oh yeah." The resignation in Malon's voice could've belonged to a Shakespearean tragedy.

* * *

_Author Notes: Okay…so it was short…and pointless…and nothing happened. I'm getting a sense of de ja vu! It sort of reminds me of the entire story so far! For those of you who came here for the music content you probably expected to find in a fic entitled: Led Zelda, The Greatest Rock Band of All Time, I can only apologize, PROMISE that its getting there and ask you to please refrain from hurting me _(For those of you who don't know what a "masochist" is, "please refrain from hurting me," is the exact OPPOSITE of what one would say. In a situation of angry readers intent on inflicting pain, a masochist would proceed to bend over, pull their pants down, and beg for some hard spanking something like "OOH YEAH! HURT ME BABY! SPANK ME! YOU KNOW I LIKE IT LIKE THAT!" Getting the idea? If you were offended or disturbed by that then rejoice: it's a sign that you're miraculously still clutching some shred of sanity)_. Unfortunately, despite the fact that I listed an apology and a promise as the ONLY things I could do, I'm not actually going to do either of them, and instead will advise you to pursue an alternate musically-related fan fiction, or better yet, PURSUE MUSIC ITSELF _INSTEAD _OF A ZELDA-BASED FIC!_ _Now…if I understand reverse psychology correctly, you people should be begging me for the next chapter within a few moments…yup…begging…that's right…on your knees…with the groveling…and the toe kissing…okay, why the awkward silence and the empty whistling of the wind? _


	4. Immigrant Song

_Stuff That's Happened: Lets see...how can I wrap this up quickly: some fictional characters from a fantasy video game have embarked on a hazardous trek through the innumerable dimensions of alternate reality against their will, and at the behest of a psychotic,obsessed teenager from the future who has dragged them tothe particulardimension of Cleveland, Ohio-land in order that they might attend an obscure concert of the Indian-rock variety. Now, if we translate the _Stuff That's Happened_passage (the sentence you just read) into actual English we get a much more concise message, namely, "Nothing important." Get my drift? You do? Well, then, can you explain it to me, cause I have no idea what I'm talking about. _

* * *

"So…Drake. I'm curious –" Malon was briefly cut off when Drake rounded the right turn of a crossroad at 80 miles an hour and Darunia and Ganondorf both crushed her against the left door of the minivan in which they had undoubtedly broken 30 traffic laws already. "OW! Get off me you oafs!" She roughly shoved the two large men to the opposite side of the row of seats.

"Hey, I didn't invent centrifugal force!" Protested Ganondorf. Malon ignored him.

"Anyway… Drake…" She tried to continue, "How did you – OW!" She yelped as they hit a curb and her cranium connected with the ceiling. "WOULD YOU SLOW DOWN, YOU IDIOT? YOU'RE GONNA GET US ALL KILLED!" She watched as Drake veered off the road into another concrete plaza, and crowds of pedestrians parted in panicked waves before the path of the renegade vehicle. Though Drake seemed to have gotten off unpunished so far, she felt sure that police would be inclined to stop any and all automobiles that happened to be traveling down a sidewalk. It was a wonder they hadn't hit anyone yet. No one wanted to admit it, but they were all subconsciously impressed with Drake's driving, if not by his blatant disregard for traffic laws.

"No whining. Must NOT MISS CONCERT!" Drake declared determinedly.

_Fine. _Thought Malon. _I WAS going to ask you how you survived that fall…I WAS going to show a little concern for your well-being, but since you don't CARE…_

"So, Drake, you said you're actually corporeal now?" Darunia managed to ask the question without any interruption, as if they weren't in the middle of a crazy death-ride.

"Yes – OW!"

Drake rubbed the welt on the back of his head where Darunia had struck him with his monster of a hand. In the process, he narrowly avoided careening into a newspaper stand.

"Sorry." Said Darunia with an evil grin. "Just checking."

"So…how did you survive your fall? If you're all…mortal now." Saria asked with that uncanny placidity, oblivious to the chaotic bouncing of the minivan.

"Oh THAT! Hah! Let's not get into THAT! Hahahaha!" Drake laughed cryptically, as he dodged a street lamp. "Whoo! That's not a story for the younguns… Hee!"

Bewildered and unable, perhaps even afraid, to fathom whatever it was that he might be talking about, the van's occupants left it at that. Perhaps they were also preoccupied with the fact that Drake had just barely evaded three other vehicles as he had charged off the plaza and back onto a street that seemed to be leading into something closely resembling slums.

"But thanks for asking at least. You must really CARE about me!" Drake crooned sweetly.

Saria smiled back at him. She didn't really mind Drake as much as the others. Sure he had made their lives a living hell, but he seemed to have a good heart, underneath all his… eccentricity.

Malon bristled. She wanted to scream at the idiot for some reason.

Drake dodged an old lady pushing a car full of scavenged garbage, squeezed between two trucks, did a screeching turn to the left and careened down a narrow alleyway between two dilapidated warehouses.

"35.3 SECONDS LEFT UNTIL CONCERT STARTS!" Screamed Drake.

"YOU DO REALIZE THAT YOU CAN'T ENJOY A CONCERT IF YOU'RE **DEAD**!" Ganondorf shouted angrily as his broad hands clutched desperately at the handle above the minivan's sliding door.

"BAH!" Drake replied succinctly.

"AND WHY THE HELL ARE YOU DRIVING DOWN AN ALLEY!" The wizard added.

Drake wasn't listening, however, as he charged into an open space hidden in some godforsaken corner of the urban maze that they had entered. An ugly, dangerous, mass of metal framework and outdated music equipment had been erected in the center of the clearing, that looked like the bastard child of some horrible hybrid between a piece of tasteless modern art and something approaching a construction site. On this "stage," or perhaps _in_ it, stood four friendly-looking Indian rockers who glanced up from their sound check (though they seemed to be checking whether or not their equipment was capable of producing sound at all) at the minivan lurching towards them.

To no one's surprise, there were a total of ten people present, which might not have been _so _pathetic if not for the fact that the count included the five Hylians, the four Indian rockers, and the one fan.

The car screeched to a halt a few feet before the stage. With terror in their eyes, the Hindu musicians began wailing in was presumably their native language and fled the stage (which took some time, considering all the horribly erected metal framing they had to disentangle themselves from). Apparently, they were unaccustomed to actually having an audience.

A look of horror crossed Drake's face as he realized what was happening and he leapt from out the car and took chase, hollering hysterically to his musical heroes.

"NO, Mumbai! BUBBHA! I'm a FAN! YOU'RE BIGGEST FAN!"

"You're _only_ fan, more like it." Whispered Ganondorf, and Link and Darunia sniggered from inside the car, which no one but Drake had left.

"PLEASE! Don't GO! I BEG YOU! I saw your flyer in a public restroom at gas station we passed! It was next to the toilet paper!"

"You mean it _was_ the toilet paper." Darunia joked, drawing another round of chuckles from inside the car, and even Saria smiled.

"WE WISH ONLY TO BASK IN YOUR MUSICAL GLORY! PLEASE, DO YOUR CONCERT!" Al Han and his band mates hesitated, peering tentatively out from a row of garbage cans behind which they had hidden themselves rather pathetically. They glanced cautiously at one another and then had a brief discussion in whispered Indian, during which the word "Immigration" was frequently discernible.

Slowly, they stood, trembling visibly, their hands held up to show they were unarmed.

Al Han spoke in heavily accented English, his voice wavering uncertainly, "Please! We want only to play a concert! We are not 'gangsters', 'homeys', or 'gee-dogs.' And we have visas! Visas!"

"YEAH! Go Mumbai! Get up on that stage and kick ass!" Drake bellowed triumphantly.

The four musicians seemed to interpret Drake's request as a threat, for they jumped noticeably and tripped over each other in their hurry back to the stage. Al Han Mumbai scrambled up to his microphone and whispered pleadingly.

"Please! We come to America just two days ago! We have no money, no property but cheap, outdated music equipment. Do not hurt us! Take our things, our clothes, our tour van," he pointed to the left of the "stage" where a grimy, rickety caravan about the size of a go-kart, was parked a distance away, "take our bassist (he is horrible), but do not arrest or kill us, I beg you!"

"Whoo! Yeah! You ROCK Mumbai! I LOVE YOU!" Drake screamed back at the Indian musician, who responded by quivering in terror. No one seemed to notice the mutinous stare Bubba the Bassist was directing at the back of Al Han's head. Drake turned to his "friends", still stubbornly inert within the car.

"Isn't he great?" It was more of a statement than a question. "Malon, you're going to have to take off your shirt. You'll need to get your chest signed by the whole band. You'll also have to preserve the signatures, at least until I get a camera to take those full-frontal nude photos of you, which means no showering for at least two weeks."

Malon was caught so off guard she didn't know how to answer. For a moment at least: "Are you out of your FUCKING MIND? Get your own damn chest signed, you pervert!"

"I wanted to, but was impeded by the fact that I lack breasts. Besides, it would raise your collector's-value exponentially! Naturally, you're the only alternative out of the present company – no offense to you, Saria – so you've earned the honor."

Saria stiffened. Unintentionally she glanced down at her rather flat ten-year-old's chest. Perhaps she didn't like Drake as much as she thought.

"I'm going to say this once, and ONLY ONCE!" Malon grated, "NO ONE holding a permanent marker is coming within a 50 foot radius of me and my bosom!"

"What about someone holding a camera?" Drake teased, as he climbed onto the hood of the minivan, over the windshield and sat himself on its roof.

"Not funny!" Malon shouted at him, the edge to her voice razor-sharp. Drake saw that perhaps he was going a bit too far. He turned back to Al Han and his band mates, who were still trembling like pansies on the stage.

"Go for it guys! ROCK OUT! Give us a killer performance."

Al Han shrieked and quickly snatched up his instrument.

"You heard him! We must rock out or he will kill us!"

And with that they launched, rather shakily, into their program, running through such classic Indian pop numbers as _Curry, Curry, Curry, All I Want is Krishna, Take Off Your Sari, _and _Have You Ever Been Bitch-Slapped By A Six-Armed Goddess?_

Their sound was…weird, to say the least, making use of exotic modal runs, oriental harmonies, quarter-tone scales, and foreign instruments such as to create that style of music that was so profoundly effective at making Ionian-grounded westerners turn their heads and say: "what the hell?" and "shut the fuck up!"

The rest of the Z-gang, who had extricated themselves from the cramped and muggy minivan were either standing disinterestedly around the vehicle, or lying disinterestedly on the van's hood, or languishing disinterestedly on the ground, or disinterestedly contemplating death. They found the whole thing to be an incomprehensible cacophony. A few of them, namely Link, Darunia, and Ganon, could at least vaguely appreciate how much more interesting the music might sound if they were stoned out of their minds, but other than that, little desire to continue living had been expressed amongst the five Hylians.

Only Drake, his eyes riveted on the unenthusiastic and nervous musicians who were half-heartedly belting out Phrygian harmonic minor scale runs, seemed to be enjoying himself. His voice screamed the lyrics (foreign or otherwise) back at the band out of sheer rote-memorization. And though it was probably safe to say he was singing out of tune, the harmonies involved were already so far into the freaky, fucked-up, impossible-to-get-your-head-around region that there was no way in hell to know whether he wasn't in fact, doing a perfect dual-harmony voice accompaniment.

Just when Link was on the verge of shoving the Master Sword through his skull, and as the group was halfway through a cover of _Stairway to Bovinity_, the rocking movement of the band's caravan caught his eye.

_What the hell?_ He thought, for the second time since he'd been here. He found himself unable to take his eyes off the vehicle as the side-to-side motion increased in intensity and then abruptly ceased. There was a pause and then the door on the side of the caravan opened, out of which a blond girl stepped. Link noticed a few oddities about her, not the least of which was that she was as naked as a baboon's ass. A small tiara was laced through her hair, only adding to the peculiarity. But this did not stop her from hollering at the top of her lungs, in a voice so screeching it could've made your teeth itch: "CUT THAT GOD DAMN RACKET OUT! I'M TRYING TO FUCK SOMEONE BACK HERE! SHEESH!"

Every single person present heard her, even over the blasting of the mindless "music", and the veins of each of them ran ice-cold at the sound of her voice. No one, NO ONE, could mistake that ear-wrenching, brain-cell-decimating, insanity-invoking valley-girl whine. They were all filled with a sudden, overwhelming desire to throttle something (most preferably, the person speaking) or else, to stick a red-hot iron poker down their ear canals to alleviate some of the pain.

The "music" stopped instantly.

Mumbai spoke nervously into the microphone. "I am sorry, my little jasmine flower, but we are having no choice. The corrupt immigration official…he kills us if we do not continue!"

"ZELDA? Sweet mother of the almighty God, say IT ISN'T SO!" Drake's agony was palpable, "You should be ground meat! GROUND MEAT, I TELL YOU!"

Zelda stepped free of the caravan door, seemingly unperturbed by the fact that she was stark naked, and stared vapidly at her fellow Hylians and company. "HEY GUYS! ITS YOU! I've been wondering when you were going to show up! Miss me?"

"Yeah. By two inches. With a throwing knife." Malon said sourly.

Zelda scowled at her, but brightened as she caught sight of Link. "Oh Link, sweetie! I'm sure you were SO worried about me, but its okay. I'm safe now. Of course…I am a little emotionally upset…. You could probably make me feel better if you joined me and my friend in the caravan…. Just consider it your duty to your Queen. In fact, all of you are invited."

"I would rather be sodomized with barbed wire, you sick freak." Link spat back.

Zelda stroked her chin thoughtfully. "Hmmm…now isn't that an interesting idea?"

"DON'T SAY ANOTHER WORD YOU PSYCHOTIC BITCH! And for the LOVE OF ALL THAT'S HOLY, PUT SOME DAMN CLOTHES ON!" Link roared from behind Malon, whose figure he was taking refuge behind.

At that instant, the only something in the universe that could've made the situation worse stepped out of the caravan behind the unclad Zelda. It was a blue, slimy, flipper-sporting, also-naked, princess that reeked of rotting fish.

"Zeldy!" It whined, "They're out of fish food!"

"Shut up, whore! Get back inside where I left you!" Snapped the one princess at the other, without glancing back.

The amphibious freak-of-nature turned sulkily, back into the caravan.

"My god! Ruto as well. Its like the some sadistic bastard perverted my greatest fantasy into my darkest nightmare. The only thing that could possibly make this worse would be if –"

"Mumbai, you useless bastard! Get over here right now, or you'll never sleep with either of us again!" Zelda snapped.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Drake screamed, his fingers clawing at his scalp. He turned desperately towards his musical hero. "How COULD you Mumbai! I mean…ZELDA! AND RUTO, TOO! I've seen some vile things in my time…but this…this is just SICK!"

He crouched in tears on the ground, and Saria sighed tiredly as she moved over to pat him on the back in a gesture of comfort. As much as they disliked Drake, everyone involved could feel some pity for him.

Mumbai had crept guiltily from the stage. "Zelda, my flower, you are supposed to be…how you say…a groupie?. The groupie does not command their rock star, correct?"

"Shut up, get inside, and get naked. I'm horny, and I plan on fixing that. And take your friends, too!" Zelda barked at him. She turned back to the Z-Gang and grinned sickeningly. "The more the merrier. Sure you guys don't want join in? Malon? I know we never really got off on the right foot, but I have to admit I always found you really –"

"Zelda, you finish that sentence and it'll be the last one that ever comes out of your mouth." Malon grated.

"Oooh. Feisty! I like that."

"Okay, I really have to get out of here, before I spew my lunch all over the floor." Darunia was clutching his large bowels queasily.

"For once I agree with you." Ganondorf replied. "Why anyone would want to fuck a girl, I can't imagine." He seemed to shudder for a moment, as if remembering something unpleasant….

"YOU! You destroyer of worlds! You evil little slut! What is it with you and fucking every person, animal, or inanimate object that you get your hands on?" Drake's accusation was filled with loathing.

Zelda smiled wickedly. "Well, you know foreign immigrants and starving musicians…so easy to take advantage of. Getting in their pants is like getting into a community college."

"Okay, that's just sick." Saria narrowed her eyes in disgust.

"Poor bastards. They didn't stand a chance." Malon shook her head regretfully.

The caravan, now newly occupied with a naked fish-creature and four Indian musicians, resumed its rocking motions. Zelda glanced back at it briefly and smiled. Drake emptied his stomach noisily and conspicuously before coming up gasping for air.

"HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE! GOT TO GO! NOW!" He staggered unsteadily back to his minivan, each creak from the vibrating caravan like a stab in the heart.

The others watched him go, nonplussed as to what to do next. Saria sighed again, and went after him.

"I better stop him from doing something stupid, like suicide."

"How would that be bad, again?" Darunia asked out loud, oblivious to Saria's scowl.

There was a brief pause and then Link spoke.

"Oh, what the hell. Anyplace is better than this one, right now. I swear I'm gonna have images of Zelda burned on in the inside of my eyelids for the rest of my miserable life."

"You're not the only one," An angry Ganondorf spat. Zelda seemed to take this as a compliment, for she smiled as Link and Gandondorf scrambled back to minivan. Darunia and Malon weren't far behind them.

Zelda stared after them awhile, then shrugged and turned back into the caravan. She paused at the door, turned round, and hollered back at the still-open minivan.

"Well, I guess I'll catch up with you guys later, when I'm finished."

"NOT IF I CAN HELP IT, FREAK!" Drake roared out the window at her, and with that, he slammed the door shut and sped off down another alleyway, chucking his CD _The Hindu Way: Greatest Hits of the Orient_, out the window.

* * *

_Author's Notes: In case you haven't observed it already, I'm not particularly fond of either of_ Ocarina's of Time's _esteemed "princesses," particurlarly not the one after whom the series is named. Perhaps its because I find Zelda to be a useless, prissy, ditz who does nothing but get her helpless ass inevitably captured in a relentlessly repetitive fashion so that Link, the hero, must be forced to rescue her, for no apparent reason other than that she may be the onesupplying his pay check. If you disagree with this statement, feel free to argue the matterwith me in a manner as irrational, groundless, andfanatic as you like. Don't worry. I don't expect sanity or logicfrom any of my opposition, since it quite literally contradicts the laws of the physical world to like the character Zelda and be a rational individual. I'm willing to wait out whatever idioticcontentions anyone has for me before promptly ignoring them.This is a democracy, after all, and ina democracy, we pretend to listen civilly to our opponent's positions with an open mind beforeintelligently responding with the fact that he/she is a big fat idiot, in-his/her-face, nah-nah-nah-nah--nah, and other similarly civilized observations._

_On a another note, long dangled prospects of Hylian rock bands will be realized insoon-to-arrive chapters, which will continue previous chapters' traditions of burying tiny nuggets of Lucky-Charm-Marshmellow-sized-entertainment amidst a sea of taste-less papery, whole-grain-bits of empty, nonsensical, gibbersih writing. In the immortal world of Apu: "Thank you, come again."_


End file.
